


tell me why my chest still hurts

by sarcieles (orphan_account)



Category: X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom
Genre: Angry Charles, Angry Kissing, Cherik - Freeform, M/M, Missing Plane Scene, Missing Scene, Not Exactly Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-19 08:01:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4738820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/sarcieles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A DOFP drabble I found in my drafts. It's alright, I guess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tell me why my chest still hurts

**Author's Note:**

> I got the title from the song [Human](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8rStDNTe1HU) by the HELLA INCREDIBLE Jon Bellion. Like, seriously. Check this motherfucker out, he's AMAZING.
> 
> This song is the truth and I decided to use it. Ironic that it's being utilized in a story about mutants who are struggling AGAINST humans... But, oh well.

"What is it like, not having your mutation?" Erik asked. The plane ride had been bad enough up until now. Then, Erik had to ask.

"You would know." Charles said curtly. He tried not to look at or feel the exasperation that Erik was emanating. That seemed to be his main emotion with Charles at that point, like he couldn't believe that Charles was walking or had long hair. As if he shouldn't have been able to change.

"No. I had mine then, I just couldn't use it. I still could feel the tiniest trace of metal in the guard's blood if I concentrated enough, if I meditated for long periods of time I could feel the slightest inkling of a belt buckle or a watch. I was too far away to do anything about it and not get caught. You don't have your powers at all." Erik said. Charles swallowed. To have the power of the world at your fingertips, knowing it's there, and yet, not being able to use it must've been devastating. However, he didn't have to deal with secrets and deceit and pain. Erik could only sense magnetic fields or metal objects, not people's life stories unfolding without him wanting to like a long, excruciating book.

"It feels like I'm normal." he answered instead. This seemed to be the wrong answer, because Erik bristled with annoyance from the other seat, his fingers clutching the leather seat. Charles noticed he was double-jointed in some of the fingers on his left hand.

"But you're not." he hissed.

"You've never _wanted_ to be normal Erik, you've never _needed_ it. I do." Charles huffed, somewhat annoyed at Erik's misunderstanding. Though, he shouldn't have been, because as he was clearly explaining Erik didn't understand and never would.

"You don't either. You're better than normal people." protested Erik, looking up at his eyes. Instead of him being angry he looked... concerned? It was such a stretch from Erik's otherwise indifferent face that Charles rendered himself confused. If he was so concerned for his well-being, he shouldn't have left him in Cuba. _But,_ he remembered, _he isn't interested in_ you. _He's interested in your_ mutation.

"I'm no better than any other living, breathing being on the planet. Neither are you, neither is Logan, or Raven, or Shaw. We're all equal."

Erik visibly shook when Charles said Shaw's name.

"We _aren't._ We are more than that, gods amongst mortals, mountains amongst ants." Erik said. "No one is anywhere near the complexity of you," he whispered. He reached his hand out, shakily, to touch Charles'. Charles jerked away. It was supposed to be a tender gesture which made him think Erik was up to something. Like he was putting on a persona. An act.

"Are you trying to recruit me?" he whispered. Erik sighed and looked at the ground for a moment before bringing his eyes back to Charles' face.

"I said I wanted you by my side. I meant it then, I mean it now." he murmured. Charles let out a noise of disgust. He should've seen this coming, this fake tenderness and hidden, cryptic recruitment effort. Erik rolled his eyes when Charles got up and walked to the end of the plane. "I know you have a crippled sense of self-worth, and I know you hate me. But..." Erik continued. Charles tried not to listen, except Erik's voice had a quality like cocaine. He couldn't get enough of it, he would do anything for it.

"But what?" Charles asked.

"But I know there is still a man that acts like a little boy with shining eyes and a pure heart and freckles on his nose," Erik said, "I know there's still a man that saw good in someone who seemed like there was nothing but rage, that there's still a man that brought in a little girl that no one else wanted. I know, I _know_ , Charles, I know that you're still there."

"What makes you think you know anything? That have the right to know anything?" Charles whispered.

"I don't." replied the German. "I never did."

"Once upon a time," breathed Charles, trying to be indifferent but failing, "you did."

"Once upon a time I was a different man." Erik said. "I was so hellbent on finding revenge I was insane enough to give up anything. And once upon a time, in that one week in November, I had _everything."_

"Stop," Charles murmured. "I don't want this speech, the one that will make me forgive you."

"I don't want you to forgive me," Erik growled. "That has to come after I forgive myself."

"You..." began Charles. "You think I believe any of this?"

"It's not a question of whether or not you believe. That I honestly don't care about. I'm more concerned about whether or not you still have the decency to listen." pleaded Erik. "After all this time, after all this time of no one listening, I want to know that you still will."

"I have been listening up to this point," Charles said. Erik shook his head.

"You're listening with a bias," Erik said.

"I'm _not_ listening with a bias-"

"You think that whatever I have to say is either about Cuba or how sorry I am. And while I _am_ sorry, and while I _would_ like to talk about Cuba, I want you to know one thing." Erik interjected. "And it has to be taken without you filtering it the wrong way."

"It sounds like you're about to tell me you want my blessings for marrying Raven," Charles simpered. "Which you don't get, in case that is what you were going to say."

"I don't love Raven in that way-"

"You don't have the right to love Raven at all. She is _my_ _sister,_ and I never-" Charles choked himself off. He had no idea what he was about to say. All he knew was that it wasn't good. "I don't... She shouldn't..."

"Controlling Raven pushed her away." Erik whispered. "She wasn't a pet, Charles. She still isn't. Every choice she made with me was her own decision, even deciding not to see you. I had no control over her, and when I accepted that, she came closer." he looked away. "I thought you, of all people, would understand that."

"I understand Raven."

"Not enough, it seems."

"What the _hell_ would you know?"

"I know that Raven is a free spirit and likes to prove people wrong, that she can do anything she so desires; that she is incredibly self-conscious because you _made_ her that way; that all she wants is to be deemed beautiful." Erik replied. "And what you think is understanding is knowing that she is mischievous and has a sense of humor."

"Fuck you," said Charles. "Fuck you _, fuck you."_

Erik looked at him with a placid face. All but his eyes. His eyes were sad, defeated, not anything like a man who had allegedly killed the President. He looked like a disappointed father. Which made Charles even angrier.

"You think you have the right to patronize my life when you're the one who ruined it? I never asked for any of this! I never _wanted_ to be involved with Sebastian Shaw, I never _wanted_ to train kids for a day that might end in their death, I never _wanted_ to be shot in the back by a man I thought I trusted, by a man I thought I knew, left for dead on a beach in _fucking_   _Cuba_ _!_ I never wanted anything but to study genetics and build a goddamn school where we could be safe with my sister by my side!" shouted Charles. Erik closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Charles' chest sucked in rabid breaths as he waited for a reaction.

Erik sat up, his long legs unfolding, and stood in front of Charles' shaking form. He stared into his eyes. They looked sorry, nervous, and something that looked like grief was present too. He shook his head.

He looked so at peace with something that a part of Charles set on fire. The piece of him that made him punch Erik earlier. (The yellowing bruise gave him quite a good amount of satisfaction, but the tender spot on his knuckles didn't.) It burned so intensely Charles knew he was going to have to do something, break Erik in some way, and he wasn't sure how.

His body took over before his brain did.

Charles grabbed a fistful of Erik's hair at the back of his head and pulled him into a bruising kiss. The surprised gasp from Erik that leaked into Charles' mouth fueled that flame like gasoline. Charles didn't even care if he was kissing Erik without kissing back, because it would break him even more. But Erik was kissing him back, angrily. Aggressively. _Passionately._ Neither of them could get quite enough air. The German pulled back mouthed Charles' neck instead, provoking Charles to make a broken noise. He stumbled back into one of the chair booth things, tugging the metal-bender down with him.

"I hate you," he groaned as he tried to tug his shirt off for him, his fingers clumsily stumbling over the buttons.

"I love you," Erik replied mindlessly as he kissed his way up Charles' jawline. Charles stopped.

"What?"

"I... I love you," he said again.

"Wh- _How?"_ Charles whispered. Erik sucked in a ragged breath. His hair was mussed up from its usual combed composure, face red and flushing, his lips kiss-swollen. Despite his previous comment, Charles thought he looked rather gorgeous.

"How could I not?" Erik wheezed finally. "How could I not love you?"

"Because I'm paralyzed and became addicted to my own cure and have long hair and I'm not anything like I used to be," Charles rambled on, admitting things he'd never even dreamed of saying all at once. "Because I'm out on control and look like I'm constantly on heroin and I'm... I'm...

"I'm broken," he finished, barely audible. Erik looked shattered. Charles realized tears were flowing down his face.

He kissed them away with such tenderness that Charles fell apart with a sob. Erik loved him. He didn't know for how long, if this was a new development or not. But he loved him.

"I love you because you see good in others. I love you because you're hellishly smart, and charismatic, and beautiful," Erik murmured against Charles' skin. "And I wish I could say those were the main reasons, because it would make me sound really evolved.

"I love you because your eyes are blue, and your hair is soft and you smell like vanilla and pen ink," Erik continued. "I love you because you used to sing in the shower when you thought no one was around. I love you because you have freckles on your arms and shoulders. I love you because you think you don't you deserve love anymore. But Charles... you _do."_

Charles wrapped his arms around Erik's broad shoulders and hugged him to his chest. He weighed a ton, just because of his height and muscle structure (which Charles could feel through his shirt).

"I don't hate you," Charles croaked out finally.

"I know," replied Erik. He opened up Charles' shirt with his nimble fingers and kissed his way down his chest gently. "I know-" he kissed his rib cage, "I know-" he kissed his abdomen, "I know." His lips lingered on the waistband of Charles' blue jeans. With a sharp breath Charles felt the button undo with either of them touching it. A small bit of him screamed for him to tell Erik to stop. But he didn't. He let it go.

 

The flame that had been ignited in Charles' heart had been tempered into something else. He didn't dare say it back to Erik, but he had a small suspicion he knew. And Charles didn't even care.

**Author's Note:**

> I was actually considering making this not-so-PG... Then I remembered I'm only thirteen and I would have a guilty conscience and a very skeptical best friend. Besides, it would've been vague with almost nothing explicit, even if it WAS smut. So it's technically the same thing.


End file.
